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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757908">and something about it doesn't feel like an accident</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrees/pseuds/ghostrees'>ghostrees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Things End Well, Domesticity, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, This is just like sickeningly sweet early morning domesticity, nothing bad happens in the fic they're just happy, which is just brief thoughts about past bad things</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:15:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrees/pseuds/ghostrees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>So Martin indulges himself. Stares at the soft glow of early morning light filtering in through the curtains onto Jon's face. Catalogues the lines and scars he can see in the familiar way one rereads a favourite book. Listens to the soft breaths that indicate deep contented sleep. Relishes the fact that this is his, that after everything he has earned the all important right to a lie in with his husband and no one will take that away from him.<em></em></em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em><br/>    <em>Just some soft post-apocalypse domesticity.</em></em><br/>  </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and something about it doesn't feel like an accident</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from the song Map On A Wall by Lucy Dacus<br/><em>But here we are and something about it doesn't feel like an accident<br/>We're all looking for something to adore<br/>And how to survive the bending and breaking<em></em></em></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin wakes up to see the room bathed in the muted light of a winter morning. He isn’t sure what woke him — perhaps the cat knocked something over outside their door — but he feels cozy and well rested and he can’t bring himself to mind that he’s awake now. Jon is still asleep and curled up next to him, one arm cradling the other to his chest, a peaceful look on his face. It’s no longer rare for Martin to get to see Jon sleep, something about not constantly having to run from fear avatars or worry about saving the world being conducive to actually getting a good night’s rest, but he intends to take advantage of this opportunity anyways, to study his husband when he’s relaxed and still, and the feeling that wells up in Martin’s chest is just plain lovely.</p>
<p>It's the warm contentment of being awake and in bed and next to the one you love, and knowing that there's no reason you'll have to leave them anytime soon. Of all the mundane things that now after all they lived through seem extraordinary to experience, this is one that Martin thinks he would have found just as amazing even if they hadn't had to fight eldritch fear gods and evil two hundred year old managers to get to it. Holding Jon, watching him sleep, just the simple fact of having a peaceful Saturday morning to spend with him, well, Martin would be lying if he said he hadn't imagined it before everything. But of course this is better than the fantasies he'd made up then, for so many reasons — because he'd had to fight so hard to get it, because he really and truly <em> knows </em> Jon now, even (especially) because Jon loves him back in a way that the Martin who had hidden in his apartment for nearly three weeks shaking at every sound could never have imagined.</p>
<p>And sometimes it makes him angry, when he thinks of how they didn’t get to just <em> have </em> this, that it had to be fought for and bled over and stolen back from the things that would’ve seen them torn apart for their amusement. When he thinks about the innumerable scars Jon carries, when the sight of fog rolling over the hills makes him feel shaky, when they don’t sleep because one or both of them have nightmares that aren't fully beaten back by the flipping of the light switch and the arrival of wakefulness, he can feel like he’s going to burst because he’s so mad. There’s nothing special about them — they should’ve just been able to meet and fall in love like a normal couple, gotten to know each other by debating the merits of Keats during a coffee date, instead of debating the merits of Keats during the apocalypse. Hell, with their childhoods they should’ve gotten a pass on trauma later in life, instead of more trauma <em> because </em> of what their childhoods had helped shape them into. </p>
<p>But that’s not how things work, Martin knows. He’s known that life wasn’t fair since he was eight years old, was reminded of it again and again and again through his life, and at some point he had recognized that if he wanted good things he would have to take them for himself, and not wait on any non-existent concept of fairness or balance to deliver them to him as some sort of cosmic reward for grinning and bearing it.</p>
<p>So Martin indulges himself. Stares at the soft glow of early morning light filtering in through the curtains onto Jon's face. Catalogues the lines and scars he can see in the familiar way one rereads a favourite book. Listens to the soft breaths that indicate deep contented sleep. Relishes the fact that this is his, that after everything he has earned the all important right to a lie in with his husband and no one will take that away from him.</p>
<p>Well, no one except the cat, who will be in eventually to wail like the world's ending if they don't get her food on time (imperious little bastard that she is, of course Jon picked her). But there's something nice in that thought too, and so Martin pursues it, filling in the gaps in the outline made familiar through routine. The cat will come in, and wail, and it'll be Jon who gets up to feed her because he's completely whipped by a ten pound ball of fur, and Martin will laugh at his grumbling and then slide out of bed himself to go turn on the kettle. Then he’ll start making breakfast, scones perhaps, they’ve got some cream that needs to be used up, and Jon will get back just as he's mixing the wet ingredients with the dry, and he'll wrap his arms around Martin's waist and it'll only be the sticky dough on his hands that keeps Martin from spinning around and picking Jon up and pulling him into a kiss right then and there. And once the scones are in the oven they'll sit on the couch, and drink their tea, and discuss something innocuous like the latest novels they've each been reading, or village gossip, or perhaps even the infamous Keats debate will rear it's head. Whatever it is will be forgotten when the timer goes off, as Martin goes about getting the scones out of the oven, and Jon sets the table, laying out butter and jam and plates and such. And they'll sit there at the kitchen table, and eat their breakfast, and maybe Jon will get a bit of jam on the side of his mouth and Martin will have to kiss it away, or maybe Martin will have some flour on his cheek that Jon will have to deal with in a similar manner, and their day will go on, peaceful and warm and delightfully, joyfully unremarkable until they reach the end of the day, and end up right back here curled together, content.</p>
<p>"I thought that was supposed to be my job, the whole staring thing", Jon’s voice pipes up, and Martin had almost forgotten that he’d been looking at Jon for around ten minutes at this point, having been lulled into the soft world of his daydream, the sudden soft noise of Jon's voice makes him jump.</p>
<p>"Christ you scared me"</p>
<p>"Only fair payback for you watching me for god knows how long" Jon responds, but there's a smile on his face, and he looks so happy and perfect and <em> Jon </em> that Martin can't do anything but pull him into his arms immediately.</p>
<p>"Not that I don't appreciate almost suffocating first thing in the morning but is there any reason for it? I hope you haven't forgotten that I'm missing two ribs, my organs are much more vulnerable than you might think" </p>
<p>"I can’t believe you’re joking about that" but Martin can't help but suppress a light laugh because oh god, he's in love with a man who makes jokes about his missing ribs at 7 in the morning. "No reason. I just love you. Rather a lot in fact"</p>
<p>And Jon can't hide his smile at that but still asks, the slightest note of worry in his voice "Is everything alright?" </p>
<p>"Everything is brilliant" Martin responds, and with that he let's go of Jon if only so he can go back to looking at him properly.</p>
<p>"Wait I didn't mean for you to stop" he says the minute Martin pulls back, and it's just such a Jon thing to say that Martin has to laugh.</p>
<p>"I thought I was suffocating you. I'm trying to be respectful of your delicate, unprotected organs" and then they're both laughing because they're being ridiculous but they're being ridiculous together and they’re being ridiculous <em> because </em> they're together and that's what makes it so great, really. </p>
<p>Their laughs die down till they're just lying next to each other, smiling, when suddenly with the tiniest note of desperation in his voice Jon says “Kiss me please Martin. I miss you"</p>
<p>"I'm right here you daft man, what do you mean ‘you miss me’?" but Martin's still smiling which he thinks briefly he really can't seem to stop doing this morning.</p>
<p>"I know but I still miss you. Come closer and kiss me" Jon says by way of explanation, and what is Marin supposed to do with that except exactly what Jon asks?</p>
<p>When they're done kissing, Jon looks straight at Martin, all round, silvery scars and dark skin and deep brown eyes, and says softly so that it's just for the two of them in the little warm bubble they've created, with a contented smile on his lips "I love you."</p>
<p>And Martin is so so so unbelievably and incredibly and mundanely happy.</p>
<p>And so he tilts his head back over, and kisses Jon on the nose, and asks "How do you feel about scones for breakfast?" </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know that tma is going to end tragically and beautifully and that it will offer incredible emotional catharsis through the pain and I truly believe that is the kind of ending it should have but also. What if they were happy. So this takes place in a world where they survive and are okay and have time to heal and move to a nice little village in the Highlands and have a cat.<br/>Anyway this concept seized me and I wrote it at 2:30 am in my notes app and then fixed it up I hope you enjoyed.<br/>You can find me on tumblr @lesbianaglaya</p></blockquote></div></div>
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